


Déjà Vu

by kitsunequeen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Parallels, alternate ending to Smoke and Mirrors, because the Allison parallels in that episode were crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunequeen/pseuds/kitsunequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira isn’t able to heal after berserker!Scott stabs her. When Scott finally breaks free from Kate’s grasp, he finds Kira slowly dying in Stiles’ arms. There's something horribly familiar about the whole situation...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Déjà Vu

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt sent to me on tumblr. Alternate ending to Smoke and Mirrors.

“KIRA?” Scott’s voice is raw as it tears from his throat, echoing down the deserted church hallways. “KIRA! STILES!” He’d abandoned Peter where he laid, unconscious. It wasn’t important right then, he just had to get to his friends.   
“KIRA, KIRA C’MON, PLEASE! STILES, WHERE ARE YOU?”

  
As soon as Peter had gone down, Scott had jumbled out a quick explanation to the pack of what he’d done to Kira. Malia’s face had fallen, and now her words play over and over in his mind as he runs. “No one’s found her yet. Stiles went to look, but I haven’t heard from him since.” Scott had run off, leaving Malia to search the opposite way. It felt surreal, almost like a dream. More like nightmare. There’d been no control over his actions, his animalistic instincts taking over, telling him to obey Kate. Maybe he hadn’t actually stabbed Kira. He couldn’t have, this was insane. He’d find her and she’d be okay and Stiles would be fine too and-

_The blood. There’s so much blood._

The scent hits Scott like a wave, invading his senses, threatening to drown him in its sickly metallic warmth.   
He lets out a roar, ignoring the way the old building shudders around him.

   
“Scott?” a voice calls. It’s faint and far away, but he can tell in an instant it’s Stiles. 

  
He takes off in the new direction, knowing he’s getting close as the yelling gets louder. 

  
“Scott?”

  
“Stiles,” he gasps, lurching to a stop as he reaches the right room. Time seems to slow as he takes in his surroundings. A horrific mix of grief and pain hang in the air. Stiles is sitting on the floor in the darkness, a limp figure sprawled over his lap. Scott can pick up his heartbeat, and below that, the small, struggling one of Kira. 

  
“Kira?” It comes out choked, and he stumbles forward, crashing to his knees in front of them. 

  
“Scott,” she murmurs back. 

It’s so much worse up close. How’s it possible that it’s worse?   
There’s blood on her lips, dribbling down her chin; her stomach is a mess of it that he can hardly bring himself to look at: her hands are stained a dark brown, and Scott has to wonder how long she’d been laying this way that the blood had had time to dry.   
As he stares down at her, a realization hits him like a punch to the gut; Allison had looked just like this not so long ago. The similarity is uncanny: the dark hair, the black jacket, the red nail polish, the  _blood_. It was like some kind of sick joke that this could be happening again, that it could be happening in the exact same way. Only this time, it’s Scott’s fault. 

But no. No, he can’t think about Allison now, he needs to focus on Kira. Needs to save her. He’s not going to let this happen again. 

“You have to heal, Kira. Why aren’t you healing?”   
He wants his voice to sound authoritative. Confident. Instead it cracks in a way it hasn’t since Allison, and he hates himself. He’s a true alpha, he’s supposed to be in control, not showing weakness. 

  
“I don’t know how,” she says weakly, tears pooling in her eyes. 

  
“You have to trigger it, right? If you trigger it it’ll start. That’s what Derek always did,” Stiles offers. 

  
“How do I…” Kira starts, and her voice is so small, so fleeting that Scott wants to scream. He wants to take her, too, into his own lap, but Stiles had flinched away- it isn’t safe to move her. The feeling of hopelessness, the lack of being in control, deepens. 

  
“You can’t,” Stiles says slowly, locking eyes with Scott. There’s meaning in it, and Scott wishes he didn’t understand, because he can’t do it. “Scott needs to.” Solemnly, he adds, “Derek usually goes for an arm.” 

  
Scott doesn’t know how he’s supposed to do this, how anyone can even expect him to do it, but he has to. That’s what comes with being her alpha. With being her boyfriend. “Kira, close your eyes,” he tells her softly, taking her arm in his hands. 

  
“Why?”

  
“Just- please. It’s gonna be over soon.” Over. That can be taken a million different ways, and he desperately wants to assure her that nothing would be  _over_ over.  

  
She obliges, squeezing her eyes shut, and Stiles pulls her a little more firmly to his chest, as though bracing the both of them. 

  
Scott lifts her arm a little and  _crack_.   
The sickening sound of her bone snapping is only matched by her screams.   
And it’s not healing. It’s _still. not. healing._    
New tears flow down her cheeks, making tracks in the blood there, and Scott thinks he’s going to be sick. 

  
“Oh my god, Scott,” Stiles says, his voice laced with horror. “Now what?” 

  
“I don’t know. Oh my god Kira, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it’s supposed to trigger healing and I don’t- I don’t know why it’s not working but-” But what? He knows exactly why it’s not working. If an injury is bad enough, it can’t heal on its own. They’d learned that from Derek and the wolfsbane bullet, what seemed like a million years ago. But this, this they don’t know how to fix. 

  
“It’s okay,” she manages.

 

_"It’s okay."_  
 _“No, Allison-“_  
 _“It’s okay. It’s perfect.”_

 

"C’mon Stiles, we’ve gotta do something," he says, panic rising. 

  
Stiles doesn’t answer, just looks at him, and Scott knows exactly what he’s thinking.   
End it. Kill her like Derek killed Paige; it’s the only merciful option at this point. But he can’t. He looks at the wound, blood still oozing from it after all this time, looks at the way her face is twisted in agony, and he still can’t bring himself to do it. She’s not going to make it, and he can’t do one last thing for her.   
But no. No, she  _is_  going to make it, because he’s not going to let her die. Scott shakes his head, and Stiles casts his eyes away, ashamed he’d thought Scott would even consider it. 

  
“Kira,” Scott says softly. Her eyes, seemingly with great effort, flicker over to him. “I’m gonna take your pain, okay?”   
She nods ever so slightly, and the weak movements are like a knife in his chest.

 

_"I can’t- I can’t take your pain."_  
 _“That’s because it doesn’t hurt.”_

 

Black veins appear on his arms, and he nearly sighs in relief. “This is good, Kira,” he says, and she just nods her head again. “If I can take your pain, you should be fine. You’re gonna be alright, I promise. Malia or Liam or someone will find us here, they can get help. You’re gonna be okay.” 

  
Stiles watches as Scott leans over her, whispering that and more words of reassurance, and his gut twists. Taking pain doesn’t mean much. Scott hadn’t been able to do it for Allison because it’d all happened too fast. The blade went in and out, and she was probably in too much shock to register anything. Kira, though… She’d been laying here with Stiles for nearly an hour as he desperately tried to staunch the bloodflow, and for who knows how long before that. Kira had felt every second of prolonged agony, so of course Scott could take it. He wishes he could be more like Scott, thinking everything could turn out okay through sheer force of will. He’d learned better from experience; Scott should’ve too.

"Mom, you- you told me-" 

  
“What?” Scott asks. “Kira, what?” 

  
She doesn’t acknowledge him, just keeps staring at an empty point in the distance. “You told me why I never get sick.” 

Her voice is so feeble that it causes Scott physical pain to listen to, and his hope of progress dampens a little as he watches her talk to her not-there mother.

 

_"You have to tell my dad- you have to tell my dad… tell him- tell him… You have to-"_

 

"You said I’d learn to heal." She stares in silence for a moment, shaking, before she responds to whatever she’s hearing. "Pain. With pain." Her voice is hard on those words, but trembling when it comes out again. "It didn’t work, Mom. It’s not…" 

  
“Kira,” Scott says, voice firm despite wanting to break. “Kira look at me. C’mon, don’t- you’re gonna be fine. It’s just me and Stiles, but look, you’re okay.” 

  
She finally looks back up at him, and there’s a small, sad smile on her face as she shakes her head. 

  
“You are,” he says, desperation edging into his voice. He registers the feeling coming back into his arms, and looks down to see the black lines fading. 

  
“No Kira, no c’mon, Kira, please, I promise you’re going to be okay-” 

  
She speaks for the first time in a while, and he immediately cuts off. 

“I love you Scott.”

 

_"I love- I love you… Scott… Scott McCall.”_

 

"Kira, please."   
Scott hears the exact moment her heart stops beating.   
He lets out a bloodcurdling howl that turns into a choked sob. Liam hears it from where he keeps watch over Peter, and his gut wrenches at the distressed sound from his alpha. Malia hears it from where she’s still running though the church, and she gets the horrible feeling that it’s time to stop looking. Derek hears it from outside, freezing in his tracks, a cold feeling edging up his spine. The one person who can’t hear it, the one person who he needs to hear it, is Kira.

Kira, who’s far beyond hearing.

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I just post these to tumblr (ghostargents), so I'm still trying to figure out the tagging and ratings on here. If I need to fix them, feel free to let me know! Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


End file.
